


stick together and we'll win (that's all i've got to say to you)

by lilacsilver



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/F, F/M, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2019-08-02 18:37:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 41
Words: 11,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16310552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilacsilver/pseuds/lilacsilver
Summary: A place for my Newsies drabbles and fics too short to stand alone.





	1. Baby Charlie 'verse #1

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from what "Annie of the Sun office" (Annie Kelly) said at the historical Irving Hall rally, where she was the only woman to speak.

Katherine Pulitzer was a curious child, forever asking why and forever unsatisfied with the simplified answers she got. Katherine Plumber was a bold young woman, working hard to free herself from the tedium of the social pages and the newsies from her father’s unfair practices.

Katherine Kelly, having finally gotten what she wanted and more besides, is quite possibly the most feared woman in all the boroughs and beyond. Whenever she shows up it almost always means uncomfortable questions first and a scathing article later, and the whole city knows it.

It doesn’t matter in the slightest that, without her family’s name and money, doors are closed to her. She just kicks them in herself.

(Possibly literally. Jack swears up and down that he’d seen her do it, though he’s never able to say when or where it had happened).

Motherhood does little to change her. Little Charlie Kelly, her sunshine boy, deserves a kinder and safer world to grow up in than the one she writes about. The baby she is waiting for, who grows day by day inside of her, deserves no less.

She does it for them as she once did it for their father, for their uncles, for the scores of other newsboys who joined the strike. She questions and argues and tears powerful men to shreds with nothing more than ink and paper, and all she can do each time the papers go out with her name and her words above the fold is pray that it will be enough to draw the interest of those with more power than she.


	2. Baby Charlie 'verse #2

The night the newest Kelly comes into the world is a sleepless one for the boys of Duane Street. Kath’s the toughest lady they know, but birthing’s a dangerous business. They’ve all heard too many stories of births gone wrong, of motherless babies and too-small coffins and women buried with their children in their arms, and when Les brings word after supper that Kath’s abed few of them can rest easily.

“She ain’t gonna let this beat ‘er,” Race says. It’s clear he wants to believe that, but nervousness weakens his voice. 

Those are the last words spoken until the circulation bell rings and it’s time to go to work. Davey meets the weary gang at the gates, and his wide grin dispels some of their worry. He wouldn’t be happy if things had gone bad during the night.

“It’s a boy,” he says. “They haven’t told me his name yet, but he’s good and healthy.”

“An’ Kath?” Specs asks.

“Worn out, but otherwise fine.”

It’s a jubilant crowd that pours into the square.


	3. Baby Charlie 'verse #3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now back to our regularly-scheduled canon era drabbles. I hope y'all enjoy this one, because I'm very proud of it (especially the second scene).

Jack sits ramrod-straight in the chair Davey had forced him to sit down in when things got started. The bedroom door’s firmly shut against male interference, and his Katherine is in there with her mother and Mrs. Jacobs and a stern midwife tending to her.

When it opens, it’s only Mrs. Jacobs coming out with a towel-covered basin. Katherine cries out and it’s all he can do not to jump up and run to her, the midwife’s wrath be damned. Davey puts a restraining hand on his shoulder.

“It’ll be hours yet,” Mrs. Jacobs says on her way back through the apartment. “First babies always take so long to arrive. Ought to sleep, if you can.”

He can’t, and wouldn’t want to if he could. Not when, just as Mrs. Jacobs reopens the bedroom door, Katherine’s sobs resolve into words.

“ – do this without him! Please, I want Jack -- ”

Someone shushes her, but it’s too late. He shakes off Davey’s hand and pushes his way into the room, ignoring the midwife’s angry spluttering. Mrs. Pulitzer willingly gives up her place at Katherine’s side, patting him on the shoulder as she goes. If it bothers her to have him as a son-in-law, she’s better at hiding it for the sake of family peace than ol’ Joe’s ever been.

It does take hours, but Jack holds Katherine through the night until finally, finally, a high, thin wail echoes off the walls.

“A boy,” the midwife announces.

“Oh, Jack,” Katherine whispers, her voice all but gone. “Oh, we have a son.”

\--

A week later – and it would’ve been longer, but Jack knows they might’ve all burst if he’d made them wait another day – the apartment fills up with newsies.

“So what’s his name?” Elmer asks.

Katherine beams. “Boys, meet Charlie.”

Words fail Crutchie. He looks from Jack to Katherine to his namesake and back again, and then a big smile takes over his face. 

“Hey there, kid,” he says softly. “It’s ya Uncle Crutchie. I’m sure glad ta meet ya.”


	4. Baby Charlie 'verse #4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are y'all tired of the daily updates yet? If yes, then I have bad news, which is that there's no escaping the Baby Charlie 'verse (it's inevitable).

The letter of invitation arrives a scant three days before Christmas Eve, straight from the desk of Joseph Pulitzer. Katherine opens the envelope, reads it, and immediately tosses it onto the crackling logs in the fireplace.

“We’re not going,” she declares. “He can’t just _order_ us to show up on such short notice. He _knows_ this is Charlie’s first Christmas and that we’re planning to spend it here at home.”

Jack, much to his own surprise (and not a little alarm) finds himself taking Joe’s part. “We didn’t go last year, neither, Ace. Or the year before that. Maybe we oughta go this time.”

Last year she’d been newly pregnant and disinterested in anything that wasn’t a remedy for the accompanying nausea. The year before that had been their first Christmas as husband and wife, a time to start building new traditions together.

Katherine scowls. “If you don’t want to sleep on the sofa from now until the new year, you’ll take that back right now, Jack Kelly.”

He raises his hands in surrender. That sofa’s a scratchy nightmare, and though he’s slept on far worse surfaces, the bed he shares with Katherine is the only place he ever wants to sleep again.


	5. modern au

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another modern AU. If you'd like, you can consider it related to the college AU in drabble #3. It was inspired partly by the recent death of my own laptop, because I'm ridiculous and take inspiration from anywhere I can get it.

After three years together, Jack’s well-used to the variety of sounds Katherine makes when she’s ensconced in her Writing Corner of Doom. There’s the _go be annoying somewhere else, Jack, I have a deadline_ grumble; the _I just realized I haven’t eaten since breakfast and it’s now three in the afternoon, please bring me food_ whine; the _my editor is a sexist asshole_ string of consonant-heavy gibberish; and the thump that means _I give up, the floor is my home now._

The high shriek that startles him badly enough to leave a streak of bright yellow paint in the wrong place on the canvas, however, is not something he’s heard before.

“Whassamatter, Ace?” he asks, once his heart rate gets back to normal.

“It just – it died! I was this close to finished and now it’s all gone! The deadline is tomorrow!”

She sort of slithers out of her chair to the floor, apparently too distraught to even _thump_ the way she usually does. Her trusty old laptop sits dark and silent on the desk (emphasis on _old_ ; she had it when they met, and it was getting on in years even then).

“You want me to call Davey to see what he can do with it?”

Katherine doesn’t answer. She’s somehow both face-down and in the fetal position, and the sounds she’s making now tear at his heart. It’s not about deadlines or lost work, not really. The laptop had once been Lucy’s, and she’d handed it down to Katherine to take to college, and then she’d gotten sick. 

It’s the last gift Katherine ever received from her sister.


	6. Baby Charlie 'verse #5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sort of NSFW. It's fade-to-black, but there's some steaminess beforehand, so if you're bored at work I'd advise reading something else just in case your boss wanders by.
> 
> ETA, because I just discovered this and etymology is my faaaaavorite thing to research: The first known written use of "butterflies in [one's] stomach" occurred in 1955, though people were using the singular "butterfly" as early as 1908. Idioms are fun!

Katherine likes to think of herself as fearless. She’s a muckraker, and a female one at that, for heaven’s sake. If she shows even a hint of fear, no one will ever take her seriously again. But here, tonight, when no one but Jack is around to see her…that’s different, isn’t it? There are no cruelties to expose, no calls for better regulation to make, no exploited workers to fight for.

Just her, standing before her husband (her husband!) in naught but a thin chemise, on the border of unfamiliar territory. Just him, looking at her as though she’s the golden desert moon he once dreamed of. As though she really is the angel he always says she is.

It frightens her. She turns away to take her hair down, just to have something to do with her hands so she doesn’t fidget and betray her nervousness. Soon enough a mess of pins litters the vanity, and she’s fresh out of distractions.

When she turns back, Jack’s face is tight with worry. He holds out a hand and she takes it, letting him draw her close.

“You’re shiverin’, Ace,” he says. “I know it ain’t from the cold. What’s eatin’ you?”

Her eyes flick to the bed. His gaze follows hers, and then he sighs.

“We ain’t gotta do anythin’ tonight, angel. Not if you ain’t ready. I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

“I want to,” she addresses his collarbone in a near-whisper. “I just – no one’s ever told me what to expect. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Mother just said something about ‘wifely duty’ and then told me not to worry about it because no one would ever want to marry a girl whose hands are always stained with ink.”

Jack tilts her chin up with gentle fingers. “Hey, she’s wrong, ain’t she? You’s Mrs. Kelly now. I married me a real smart journalist.”

He runs a hand up and down her back, slow and warm, and plays with the curling ends of her hair. She lets herself be soothed for a while, until the butterflies in her stomach finally calm down and she can think about moving forward.

She leans up and kisses him softly, and when she pulls back the heat in his eyes sparks an answering heat low in her belly. He kisses her then, trailing fire from her mouth to a spot below her ear and down the column of her throat, to the line of her shoulder, to the soft curve of her breast.

By the time he lays her down on the bed, she’s forgotten why she was ever afraid of this.


	7. Baby Charlie 'verse #6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Delanceys, implied threat of violence toward a child.
> 
> I...did not enjoy writing this one, but it popped into my head and wouldn't leave me be. I suppose it's my own fault for focusing so much on Katherine-the-muckraker, because people who dig up uncomfortable truths will always have enemies who would rather those truths stay hidden.
> 
> (I did have fun with those headlines, though. Leave a comment if you want to know the ones I came up with that didn't make the cut!)

The moment winter at last gave way to spring, Katherine tucked Charlie into the pram for a long-overdue afternoon stroll. She exchanged greetings with other women who had had the same idea, and dutifully admired their babies as they admired Charlie. Older children peeked in at him and asked endless questions until their mothers called them away.

It was a good day – or it had been, until the Delanceys dared to spoil it.

“Well, well, well, if it ain’t the famous Missus Kelly,” Oscar’s voice, cold and mocking, sounded from behind her.

“Our new boss’s got a bone t’ pick with you,” Morris called out, approaching from the front.

She looked to her left, where a dim alley yawned threateningly. If they wanted, and they probably did, they could force her into the narrow space and no one would be any the wiser. She’d just be another life swept away by the wild undercurrent of the city, her and Charlie both –

 _Charlie_. They weren’t stupid; they’d waited for her to be out with the baby before they made their move. They’d waited until she would have to choose between protecting herself and protecting him.

No, they weren’t fools. But neither was she. There were loose stones in the alley, hidden by shadows and the wheels of the pram. If she could just – yes, there. She’d be able to reach them before the thugs did, even though it meant boxing herself in.

The brothers loomed before her, smirking like they expected to win. But they weren’t mothers whose children were in danger, and she’d never made anything easy for anyone.

She'd never be entirely sure what happened next, even when the papers reported it the next day. Below the fold, sure, but it sold more papes than the big headlines.

MRS. KELLY FIGHTS OFF THUGS

FORMER _WORLD_ EMPLOYEES THREATEN REPORTER

“STAY AWAY FROM MY FAMILY”: MRS. KELLY WARNS HER ENEMIES


	8. Baby Charlie 'verse #7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I should not be allowed to write while hungry.
> 
> All the foods mentioned herein came from Mary Arnold's Century Cook Book, first published in 1895, which aside from food also contains directions for homemade floor polish and soap.

After accepting Jack’s proposal and the modest ring he’d saved so long to buy, Katherine spends as much time in her parents’ kitchen as the irritable cook will permit. Whenever he kicks her out, muttering under his breath about clumsy hands and foolish girls, she consults every cook-book she can get her hands on and goes to practice in the Lodging House kitchen.

She’s determined to start off right. They won’t be able to afford help, so she’s got to learn her way around a kitchen before the wedding. It’s slow going, and there are far more failures than successes in the early days.

Thankfully her newsie family doesn’t mind when she serves them chicken that’s a little dry, or bread that collapsed while baking, or slightly burnt potatoes. Food’s food, they tell her every time. So long as it keeps them going, it doesn’t have to be perfect.

Eventually, though, she does improve. With six weeks to go until the wedding, she finally gets to celebrate pulling off a meal for which not one dish is scorched or under-done or rendered completely inedible. Sure, it’s only roast chicken with chestnut stuffing, bread fritters and corn gems, with apple pie for dessert, but she’s done it.


	9. Baby Charlie 'verse #8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with this, I am officially out of drabble ideas. Come throw prompts at me on [tumblr!](https://silver-lilacs.tumblr.com/ask)

It’s not the first time Jack’s been in Pulitzer’s office, but it might be the first time he’s had an actual appointment to see the man. 

“Mr. Kelly. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Jack pulls the ring box out of his pocket, and sees the other man’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second before the mask of cool indifference slips back into place.

“I admit I’m still at a loss,” he says. “I can only assume you came here for my blessing, but you and my daughter have both made it abundantly, repeatedly clear that you don’t care for my opinion.”

“Oh, sure, I don’t. But she’s still ya daughter, Joe. Whateva you’s done or said in the past, she still loves ya.” Jack pauses to let that sink in, then goes on: “I don’t _need_ ya blessing, but it’d be nice ta have, for her sake.”

Pulitzer sighs. “Very well. I don’t like you, Mr. Kelly, but Katherine’s life is her own. If she wishes to marry you, I will not stand in the way of that.”

\--

Three days later, Jack dines with the Pulitzers. He is stiff and awkward where Katherine fairly glows, the modest pearl ring on her finger somehow more precious than any of the fine jewelry her mother is wearing. 

Kate Davis Pulitzer is a skilled hostess, and she works hard to make up for her husband’s distant company manners with kind words and a smile. It’s almost enough to make Jack believe she could be a friend in all of this, no matter that he’s a union-leading artist and ex-newsie and not at all the kind of man she might have hoped her daughter would marry.


	10. terrible neighbors (modern au)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another modern AU! Set in San Diego, 'cause the apartments Kath and Jack live in are based on a real apartment complex there (and also I just love San Diego).
> 
> Also, again: please feel free to leave drabble prompts at my [tumblr](https://silver-lilacs.tumblr.com/ask)!

Katherine was going to murder her neighbor and all of his friends with her bare hands. It was two o’clock in the fucking morning, but that didn’t seem to matter to the obnoxiously loud gathering in the apartment on the other side of the tiny courtyard.

With a growl, she got out of bed and ventured into the night, not even bothering with shoes. She knocked on the door, wondering if anyone would even hear it over the music and yelling.

Miraculously, someone did. It wasn’t her neighbor.

“Hi?”

“You aren’t Mr. Kelly,” she accused. He was way too clean-cut, for one thing. Not enough paint stains on his clothes.

“…I’ll just go get him,” the guy said, beating a hasty retreat and leaving her standing there, barefoot and regretting that choice as the chill of the brick walkway seeped into her toes. A few moments later, her neighbor emerged from the chaos (and it had to be a fire hazard, having that many people crammed into a studio apartment).

“What brings ya to my door, Ms. Pulitzer?” He grinned at her in a way she was sure he thought was roguish and charming.

“I need you and your friends to shut up,” she said. “What are you even doing?”

“’S my birthday. They wanted to celebrate.”

That took the wind out of her exhausted, angry sails. “Oh. Happy birthday.”

“Thanks,” he said, then, “You wanna come in, have a beer?”

She looked down at her bare feet and mismatched pajamas, and made a choice. “Well, if you can’t beat ‘em…”

He threw back his head and laughed, and then he stood back to let her in.


	11. Baby Charlie 'verse #9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a Tumblr prompt: Jack and Kath name a pet.
> 
> More canon-era "Baby Charlie" 'verse. Meet Baby #2, better known as Irene Elizabeth, and Rascal the cat. (The year is 1909, for those of you who appreciate such details. I'm still working out the timeline).
> 
>  
> 
> [Prompt me!](https://silver-lilacs.tumblr.com/ask)

Not long after Irene is born, a scraggly, scrawny cat makes itself at home on the fire escape. Katherine is sitting on the sofa, nursing her daughter, when she notices the yellow eyes watching her through the window.

A short time later, she opens the window just enough to set a little bowl of water down on the metal stairs and shuts it again. The cat doesn’t move.

“Suit yourself,” she mutters, patting Irene on the back until the baby lets out a hearty burp right in her ear. Katherine laughs; she’s missed this. Oh, it hasn’t been so very long since Charlie did the same thing, but he’s three years old now.

When Jack comes home that afternoon, the window is open to catch the summer breeze and the cat is stretched out on the floor in a patch of sunlight.

“I see we have a cat now,” he says. “Our new kid got a name?”

“I’m thinking of calling her Rascal. Or Mischief.” Katherine points him to a dish on the counter, and he looks in it to see a chicken covered in unmistakable bite marks (where it isn’t outright shredded). “That was supposed to be our dinner. I left the room for less than a minute, and when I got back…”

Jack glances over at the cat, who looks smugly back at him. “Rascal it is. I’ll run over to Jacobi’s an’ get us some sandwiches, Ace, how’s that sound?”


	12. Baby Charlie 'verse #10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween 1904/2018!
> 
> Candy corn was first created in the 1880s, supposedly by the Wunderlee Candy Company. Colcannon is an Irish dish of mashed potatoes and cabbage (or kale); Irish Halloween traditions include hiding a ring and a thimble in it. Since Kelly is an Irish name, I figured Jack would be at least a little familiar with that tradition.
> 
> The original jack-o-lanterns were turnips, as pumpkins aren't native to Ireland. There's no good reason for them to use turnips as opposed to pumpkins (which by this time would have long since become the most common base for jack-o-lanterns in the US), because my anti-pumpkin bias doesn't count.

Katherine pulled a spice cake out of the oven as Jack finished carving a grinning face into a turnip and set it beside the others he’d already finished. The boys, Sarah, and Smalls would be arriving soon for the inaugural Kelly Halloween party, which hopefully made up for in food and treats what it lacked in decoration.

The table groaned under the weight of several other cakes and pies, colcannon, roast vegetables, and what looked like half an orchard’s worth of baked apples. Her mother had visited the day before claiming that the cook had ordered far too much even for the long guest list of a Pulitzer party, and Katherine had let the lie stand. She had a small army of her own to feed, after all. 

_Knock, knock_. Speak of the devil. She went to the door to find the corridor outside full of their guests, and accepted hugs and not a few spit-shakes as each of them entered the apartment.

“I brought a deck of cards,” Race announced. “We c’n play fer candy corn.”

…She knew there was something she’d forgotten.


	13. Baby Charlie 'verse #11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someday I'll throw together a proper timeline for the Baby Charlie 'verse. This snippet takes place sometime in the late spring of 1907, when Charlie's about ten or eleven months old.
> 
> (I'm still debating whether to expand the Baby Charlie 'verse into a full-length fic or series. My attention span says no, but my heart might be saying yes).
> 
> [Come visit me on tumblr!](https://silver-lilacs.tumblr.com/ask) I am, as always, accepting Newsies drabble prompts.

When Katherine returned from a rare half-day of work, she poked her head into the nursery expecting to find Charlie and Jack asleep. The twice daily ritual of convincing their son that naps were good and necessary was an exhausting one, and both of them frequently found the other dozing in the rocking chair along with him. 

Instead she found Jack bent nearly double, Charlie’s little hands latched onto his fingers as they took one step and then another together. She gasped, making Jack look up and grin at her.

“Hey, buddy,” he said to Charlie. “Look who’s here.”

“Ma!” Charlie let go of Jack’s hands and took a wobbly step forward on his own. Katherine left the doorway and knelt, reaching out. With her hands to steady him, he made it the rest of the way and threw his arms around her neck in a silent request for a cuddle.

She happily obliged, pressing her cheek to his dark curls and holding him close. Jack joined them on the floor and wrapped himself around them, kissing her hello.

“Betcha weren’t expectin’ that when ya got home.”

“It’s a good surprise,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder.


	14. Baby Charlie 'verse #12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> October 29th, 1911. If I had thought about it, I would have posted this on the actual anniversary of Pulitzer's death instead of several days late, but I didn't, so here we are.
> 
> Kate Pulitzer and Herbert Pulitzer were both present aboard the yacht _Liberty_ when Joseph Pulitzer died at 1:40 PM, October 29th. This installment of the BC 'verse is as historically accurate as I can make it while still working with the Disneyfied version of history that the show itself presents.
> 
> Also, I married Davey off. Mazel tov, you crazy kids.

The apartment is quiet save for the soft sounds of Katherine’s grief. David and his wife Rebecca have taken the children for as long as is necessary, and as much as she wants her babies near, she doesn’t want to frighten them. Best let them spend time with their cousins. It’ll give her and Jack time to think up an explanation that Charlie will understand.

Irene is too young for any explanation at all. By the time she’s old enough, she won’t remember her grandfather at all. The thought brings fresh tears to Katherine’s eyes, and as she cries anew, the bed dips under Rascal’s weight.

Their cat has some strange ideas about acceptable behavior, but carrying her recent litter one by one onto the bed until all five are piled in a mewing heap next to Katherine is odd even for her. Rascal settles down to nurse the still-sightless kittens, purring like she thinks she’s done good.

Maybe she has. Katherine smiles despite herself, scratching gently between Rascal’s ears. The purring intensifies, lulling both her and the kittens to sleep.

When she wakes, the cats are gone, and Jack’s arms are warm and strong around her. 

“How’re you feelin’?” he asks.

“Tired,” she says. “Did you…have you heard from anyone?”

Jack heaves a sigh. “Ralph called. They’re bringin’ the…the body home tomorrow, an’ he’s gonna meet the train on the way. He says Joseph an’ Elinor are on their way here.”

Katherine wants to sleep for a week. She wants to cry until she can’t anymore. But a little voice in her head that sounds just like her father says: _No. Get up. Your family needs you._

So she does.


	15. 1940s nightclub AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote a 1940s (post-war) nightclub AU. I regret nothing.
> 
>  
> 
> [Come visit me (and leave Newsies prompts) on tumblr!](https://silver-lilacs.tumblr.com/ask)

The Silver Lark wasn’t quite on the same level as El Morocco or Billy Rose’s place, but it did all right. Miss Medda’s voice drew in a decent crowd, and even when she wasn’t singing they had their fair share of loyal regulars.

The redhead sitting at a table near the stage, though? She was new. Jack leaned toward Race under the guise of pouring him another drink.

“Who’s the dame sittin’ by herself? Ain’t seen her around here before.”

Race scoffed. “Are ya tryin’ to get us shut down? That’s Katherine Plumber.”

Jack nearly dropped the bottle of whiskey. Katherine Plumber had built a reputation for herself as the unforgiving queen of the social pages as a sort of revenge against the wealthy men who had blocked her from becoming the kind of reporter she wanted to be. She might have been barely older than he was, but she could make or break the career of anyone she chose, and _she was in their club._

She was also coming toward the bar. And sitting down at the bar. And eyeing him like whatever he did would make up her mind about the place one way or the other.

He made his way over to her and turned on the charm. “How’re you doin’ on this fine evening, Miss Plumber?”

She shook her head. “Let’s table the pleasantries, Mr. Kelly. We both know why I’m here.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Can I make a request?”

“…Sure.”

“Don’t ruin us. Miss Medda’s always been good ta me, and I’d never forgive myself if her place was in trouble ‘cause of me.”

Katherine’s expression softened. “I wasn’t planning on it, Mr. Kelly. She puts on a good show, and…well, off the record, I like the Silver Lark better than any other club I’ve covered. You’ll probably see me here again.”

He did.


	16. the one where Katherine is the mom friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon-era, but not set in the Baby Charlie 'verse. This one is unofficially titled "Kath is everyone's mom," and may or may not be inspired by a dream I had.
> 
>  
> 
> [Prompt me!](https://silver-lilacs.tumblr.com/ask)

“What on earth is going on in here?!”

Katherine was accustomed to the lively, convivial atmosphere of the lodging house, but she was decidedly _not_ accustomed to the sight of her boys nursing fresh bruises and scrapes apparently caused by a screeching pile of rags lying in the middle of the floor.

“Now’s not really a good time,” Crutchie said by way of greeting. The pile screeched louder.

“No, I think now’s the perfect time.” She turned to Jack. “Explain, please.”

“He’s new,” he said. “He don’t like the idea of takin’ a bath or nothin’. An’ he bites.”

“What’s his name? How old is he?”

“Georgie, an’ it’s hard ta tell.”

Katherine took a step toward Georgie, and all the boys tensed. 

“Hello, Georgie,” she said. “I’m Katherine. Do you think you could sit up and tell me why you don’t want the boys to help you?”

“No bath!”

She edged nearer. “Okay, you don’t have to take a bath right now. Will you at least apologize for biting people?”

Georgie, having apparently sensed that someone had gotten closer than he was comfortable with, lashed out with a little fist and caught her square in the jaw. In an instant Albert had him, arms pinned to his sides. Jack planted himself between her and the kid, callused fingers gentle against her aching face.

“You can hit any one of us all ya want, kid, but ya don’t hit a lady,” Albert lectured, his voice a low hiss. “’Specially not our Kathy. Not ever.”

“Probably gonna bruise, Ace,” Jack said. “You okay?”

“Is he?” She could feel where her teeth had cut the inside of her cheek, and tasted blood, but that hardly mattered. Jack scowled.

“He ain’t the one what got hit in the face just now, Katherine!”

She stepped around him. Georgie was crying.

“I won’t do it again, I promise! Lemme go!”

“Let him go, Albert,” she said. He obeyed, and Georgie slumped over, still crying. Katherine took a chance and bent over him, her hands hovering but not touching his dirt-streaked skin.

“Are you sorry for what you did, Georgie?”

“Yes,” the little boy sniffled. “Shouldn’ta hit you or no one else. ‘M sorry.”

“Will you let the boys give you a bath?”

“…C’n you do it? You’s nicer than they is.”

“They’re just as nice as I am if you give ‘em a chance, Georgie. They’ll be your friends in no time, as long as you apologize for what you did today, all right?”

By the time she left, they were.


	17. Baby Charlie 'verse #13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Direct sequel to chapter 8 (the one in which the Delanceys messed with the wrong reporter).
> 
> One of my most precious headcanons for the BC 'verse is that Spot and Kath bonded over what it's like to love a dumbass Manhattan newsie, and now they're best friends whose monthly "get mildly drunk and compare notes about the idiocy of their significant others" nights are the worst-kept secret in New York. Yay for surprise Sprace! \o/
> 
>  
> 
> [Ask me about other headcanons!](https://silver-lilacs.tumblr.com/ask)

When it was over, when the red haze of maternal fury had lifted from her vision, Katherine dropped the stone. The Delanceys were both on the ground, only she was sure she hadn’t hit them hard enough to knock them out.

“What the hell was that, Manhattan?” Spot. What was he doing here? She raised her head and looked at him.

“They would have hurt my son,” she said. His scowl deepened. He’d never admit it in public, but the fearsome prince of Brooklyn was fond of Charlie.

“Well, they’re gonna think twice about comin’ after you again,” he replied. “Let’s get you two home, yeah?”

His glower as he escorted her the five blocks back to the apartment meant no one dared stop them or ask questions. Well, except for her.

“What’re you doing here, anyway?”

“Came t’ see Race. ‘S been a while. Was on my way home when I saw you was in trouble, an’ thought I’d help out.”

“Thank you.”

“Welcome. Y’ almost didn’t need me, with that rock o’ yours.”

The conversation lapsed, and they finished the walk in silence. He accompanied her up to the third floor, carrying the pram without being asked.

Jack wasn’t home when she came in, which in theory gave her time to try and figure out what she was going to tell him when he did. Unfortunately for her, the world worked in mysterious ways that meant he got home only minutes later.

“Why’m I hearin’ rumors that you’s been fightin’ in the street, Ace?” he called out. She was in the bathroom cleaning herself up, and didn’t answer right away, which he apparently took as license to open the door and barge in. His eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of her – hair in disarray, skirt torn, tears of pain drying on her face.

“Who was it?” he growled, taking the damp washcloth from her and going to work on her bruised, bloodied hands.

“The Delanceys. Whoever they work for now sent them after me.”

“So you hadta fight ‘em, ‘steada runnin’ like you shoulda done?!” He all but shouted the last few words, and she flinched. He hadn’t raised his voice to her like that since the night before the strike ended.

“Don’t yell at me,” she said quietly, a sob rising in her throat. The Delanceys had rattled her, and the last thing she needed was more of the same at home. Home was supposed to be safe and happy.

Jack pulled her into his arms and let her cry, whispering apologies into her hair.


	18. Baby Charlie 'verse #14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from my esteemed EIC: one catches the other singing. In which we return to the Baby Charlie 'verse, because I didn't spend the whole morning looking up popular songs from the turn of the century for nothing.
> 
> "Give My Regards to Broadway" comes from the musical _Little Johnny Jones_ , written by George M. Cohan, that opened on Broadway at the Liberty Theatre on November 7th, 1904. The first run had only 52 performances, but the subsequent revival in 1905 had over 200 (plus a tour that continued until the short-run revival in 1907). 
> 
> This drabble is set in...eh, let's say February 1912.

_“…when the man on the pier shouts loud and clear, as the ship strikes out…give my regards to Broadway, remember me to Herald Square! Tell all the gang at Forty-Second Street that I will soon be there! Whisper of how I’m yearning, to mingle with the old-time throng. Give my regards to old Broadway, and say that I’ll be there ere long!”_

“You thinkin’ of changin’ careers, Ace?”

Coming home to find his wife singing isn’t unusual, but she generally sticks to lullabies for the kids or the silly songs she likes to make up about the cats. Singing a theater tune to the soup she’s stirring is decidedly out of the norm, though.

Katherine squeaks and whirls around. “Jack! How…how long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough ta know ya could get a job singin’ at Medda’s if ya ever get tired o’ standin’ up fer the downtrodden,” he laughs.

“Mr. Kelly, your partisanship is showing,” she mock-scolds. “I’m afraid you’ll have to pay a fine for making biased statements.”

“Oh, yeah? What do I owe?”

She pretends to think, tapping her chin. “Kisses for your wife and hugs for your children. As many as you like.”

He obliges with a grin.


	19. Baby Charlie 'verse #15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's another double-chapter day! Yay! The date(s) of this chapter will be clear once this note ends.
> 
> Historical notes: all of the papers mentioned at the start are (or were) real ones. New York had a loooot of newspapers and newspapermen back in the day. In 1901, Hearst's _Journal_ was renamed to the _New York American_. It retained that name until 1937, when Hearst merged it with the _Evening Journal_ to create the _Journal-American_.

The streets echo with the terrible news. The _World,_ the _Trib,_ the _Times,_ the _Herald,_ the _Sun_ and the _Globe_ and the _American_ – over and over it’s the same thing, until Katherine wants to scream.

_Titanic_ sunk. Hundreds lost. Names she recognizes come over the wires as dead or missing or, far less often, safe and sound. The one she’s waiting for – dreading – never does.

“Darcy was on board,” she tells Jack, after dinner’s been eaten and the children put to bed and they themselves have retreated to the quiet of their bedroom. He curses, but softly, because the children are light sleepers.

“An’ you ain’t heard anythin’?”

“No. I left work early because I just couldn’t stand it anymore.” She sighs, sitting down at her vanity to take her hair down.

“Lemme do that, angel,” Jack says, as he does every night. He plucks one hairpin and then another free, and she meets his eyes in the mirror.

“What is it with you and my hair?” she asks, as she does every night. Not once in eight years of marriage has he given her an answer, but the little exchange has passed into routine status by now. Forgoing it would be too close to admitting how scared she is that her lifelong friend is dead.

Jack knows her, though. He sets the last hairpin on the vanity before her and reaches for her brush to begin the second half of the nightly ritual.

“You ain’t gotta pretend with me,” he says. “’S just us here, Kath. Ain’t no point in actin’ like you ain’t worried about Darcy, not when I’m worried too.”

She slumps in her chair, because he’s right. He says nothing more, just continues to brush out her hair, and when he’s done he gently pulls her to her feet.

“Let’s try ta sleep, angel,” he says quietly. “Maybe things’ll look better in the mornin’.”

\--

The phone rings much too early the next day. Katherine stumbles out to the little table in the hallway and utters a sleepy curse into the handset, because the sun isn’t up yet and she doesn’t want to be either. (Eight years of marriage. Almost thirteen together. She’s lucky her manners aren’t completely gone).

“ _Er, hello to you too, Katherine,_ ” Bill says.

“Sorry, Bill. What are you calling for…” and then she remembers. “Darcy.”

“ _He’s alive,_ ” Bill says. “ _He wasn’t even on the ship. Mary took ill the day it called in Cherbourg, so they’re waiting until she’s better to come home.”_

Katherine doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry, and splits the difference by making a choked noise of acknowledgment and hanging up on him. (Somewhere, the stern governess of her childhood has just burst into tears and doesn’t know why).

She slips back into bed beside a snoring Jack and pokes him until one green eye slits open.

“Whazzit?”

“Bill called. Says Darcy’s stuck in France and never got on the ship.”

“Good,” her husband mumbles. “Back t’ sleep now.”

Yeah. Sleep. She snuggles closer to him and closes her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what Darcy and the wife I gave him were up to in France. The _Titanic_ did not, contrary to the liberties James Cameron took, head straight for New York as soon as she left Southampton. Two stops were made, in Cherbourg, France, and Cobh (formerly Queenstown), Ireland.


	20. Baby Charlie 'verse #16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tidbit from the Baby Charlie 'verse - so teeny for so late in the day! - about the first time Jack helped Kath with her hair, at some point in April 1904.

Two weeks after the wedding and their upstate honeymoon, Jack’s still in seventh heaven. And why shouldn’t he be? The best and smartest gal in the world stood up in front of her father and God and everyone and told them all she’d picked him.

“Hey, angel, can I -- ” he cuts himself off. Katherine doesn’t need his help to take her hair down for the night; she manages it just fine on her own. He knows that from being completely unable to take his eyes off her except to sleep these past two weeks.

“What is it?” she asks.

“Never mind.”

“No, what were you going to say?”

“I was just gonna ask if I could help ya with yer hair.”

She tilts her head, then smiles at him. “All right.”

It takes him a few minutes to find all the pins buried in her hair, but when he’s done she hands him her hairbrush.

“Always finish what you start, Jack Kelly,” she says when he raises an eyebrow. He sets a slow rhythm that nearly lulls her to sleep right in her chair, if her dreamy expression is anything to go by.

“All done, Ace,” he says, an untold length of time later.

“You’re good at that,” she murmurs, stifling a yawn. “Might get you to do it every night.”

He bends down to kiss the top of her head. “You ain’t even gotta ask, angel.”


	21. Baby Charlie 'verse #17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1952\. Katherine at the end of a life well lived.
> 
> This isn't the last Baby Charlie 'verse drabble, but I'm probably going to have to rename it the Difficult Teenager Charlie 'verse (or the "Irene Kelly would absolutely turn out to be a flapper, look at who her parents are" 'verse) for future installments.

Katherine is so very tired. Five years widowed is five years too long, and she just wants to be at peace with the people she used to know. She’s the last one left from that long-ago summer: war took too many of them too young, and sickness stole the rest.

Her desk is full of letters she can never send, some more yellowed than others. One for each of her boys, one for Sarah, one for Smalls.

And the one she’s just finished writing, shorter than all the rest.

_Jack, my love,_

_I’m coming home. I’m sorry it took so long._

_Ace_


	22. Baby Charlie 'verse #18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> August 1909.
> 
> As an apology for the previous chapter, here's the first time Charlie meets his baby sister Irene. Enjoy, and remember that comments give me life.

Katherine smiles wearily as Jack brings Charlie to the side of the bed. She wants to sleep, but not before their son gets to meet his new little sister.

“Hi, Charlie-bug,” she whispers.

“Hi, Mama,” he says. “Sisser? I see my sisser?”

“Yes, sweetie.” She adjusts her precious bundle so he can see Irene’s tiny, perfect, sleeping face. “Say hello to Irene.”

“Reenie,” he coos, putting out a small hand to touch the soft swaddling blankets. “Hi, Reenie.”

Irene scrunches up her nose and opens her eyes and immediately begins to cry. Charlie jumps back, startled, looking to his father with wide eyes.

“It’s okay,” Jack laughs, scooping him up. “Cryin’s just what babies do. You cried all th’ time when you was that little.”

“Oh.”

“She’s prob’ly just hungry. Speakin’ o’ which, ‘s almost time fer yer breakfast. Whatcha want, huh?”

“Egg an’ toast!”

“Eggs an’ toast it is,” Jack agrees, pausing at the door to catch the kiss Katherine blows his way before going to fix breakfast.


	23. writing duo au

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick little AU in which Jack and Kath are a husband-wife children's lit writing team (a la the Berenstains). Probably set sometime in the 1940s or 50s.

“Jack, darling, what do you have for me today?”

Wordlessly, her husband held up a drawing of a rosy-cheeked little girl holding a kitten with a blue ribbon ‘round its neck. The kitten almost appeared to be smiling.

“Ain’t much,” he said. “But maybe it’ll give you some ideas.”

Katherine nodded. Writing children’s literature wasn’t quite where she’d once thought her life would go, though she was proud of the work they’d done so far. It stung sometimes that they had no children of their own, a circumstance unlikely to change, but their illustrated storybooks were a beloved fixture in homes across the country. (Or so their publisher said. Frequently. Usually while smiling more brightly than was generally warranted for business discussions).

“It’s lovely,” she said. “I’ll brainstorm a bit and see what I come up with.”

Jack made a noise of acknowledgment and went back to outlining…something. He’d show her the finished product eventually. She left the room with the drawing, already turning over ideas in her head.


	24. Baby Charlie 'verse #19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> April 10th, 1904. The morning of Katherine and Jack's wedding.
> 
> Smalls' full name in the BC 'verse is Annie Gray. I don't know why; it's not like I'll ever use it. She's just Smalls.

“Edith, be a dear and go find something suitable for Annie to wear.”

In the mirror, Katherine sees Smalls grimace as Mother once again uses her given name. It’s the third time she’s done so today, but Smalls is too uncomfortable in this house to say a word about it.

She’s here because it’s Katherine’s wedding day. Mother had got the idea in her head that nothing would do but to invite _your dear friends, Kitty_ to join the Pulitzer women in getting ready for the day, so Sarah’s also here and only marginally more relaxed than Smalls.

Edie scurries out of the room, and Katherine beckons Smalls forward.

“If you want to get out of here, just say so,” she murmurs, close to her friend’s ear. “I won’t be offended.”

Smalls shakes her head. “Don’t ya know by now I ain’t a quitter, Kath? I c’n handle a few hours in a fancy dress.”

“Well, if you’re sure.”

The pale blue dress Edie returns with isn’t the problem. The corset…is an entirely different story.

“How d’you people deal wi’ this all day, every day?” Smalls grumbles from behind the changing screen. “I feel squished.”

“Such is the price of womanhood, dear,” Mother says.

Smalls mutters some more, barely audible over the rustle of fabric. Eventually she emerges, looking mutinous in borrowed silk, her dark hair pinned up by Connie’s clever fingers in something resembling the current fashion.

Katherine hugs her, ignoring Mother’s dire warning about crushed lace and silk.

“I don’t care,” she says, once Smalls has stepped back. “I don’t want to look like a fashion plate. I want to look real.”

So she hugs her sisters and Sarah, too, putting a great many creases in her wedding gown. Mother sighs heavily and gives in, and if the white silk ends up stained with a few maternal tears, no one says a word.


	25. Baby Charlie 'verse #20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The night of March 25th, 1911. 
> 
> Smalls is the Kelly kids' favorite babysitter.

“Aunt Smalls?” a little voice interrupts Smalls’ attempt to get some shut-eye on a pallet in the kids’ room. It’s way too late for either of them to still be awake. For her, too; she’s got to be at work before the distribution bell rings. Weisel’s retirement’s left her the only person behind the distribution window, handing out stacks of papes to a new crowd of newsies. (She doesn’t know and doesn’t care what the Delanceys are up to these days, so long as it’s far away from her).

“Go back ta bed, Charlie,” she says. “Yer parents’ll never let me babysit again if they find out you ain’t slept tonight.”

“When are they gonna be home?”

“I don’t know, kid.” The factory fire this afternoon means Katherine will be thoroughly distracted until someone forcibly pries her article out of her hands to be printed. She’ll be on a crusade for worker safety by Monday, no doubt.

“I want Mama,” Charlie whines, just a bit too loud. Irene wakes with a cry.

“Oh, good, now we’re all awake,” Smalls sighs, levering herself up off the floor to soothe her niece. “C’mere, Ree.”

Irene sniffles and buries her head in the crook of Smalls’ neck, and it’s not long before she’s asleep again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire claimed the lives of 146 workers, six of whom remained unidentified for a century.


	26. Baby Charlie 'verse #21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1906\. A brief interlude toward the end of Kath's first pregnancy.
> 
> Enjoy, and please comment!

Katherine can’t sleep. She’d waited until she was sure Jack was well and truly out before getting back out of bed, which is increasingly difficult these days, and going to the living room. The midwife thinks she’s at nearly eight months now, just a few weeks still to go.

The idea makes her anxious. In just a few weeks she’ll be a mother, and Jack a father, and the little life currently focused on repeatedly kicking her square in the bladder will be looking to the two of them for everything.

She presses a hand to the swell of her belly, and the baby settles down. It’s enough to let her rest her tired eyes for a few minutes, but the sound of Jack’s heavy footsteps makes her open them again.

“Angel?” his sleep-roughened voice drifts down the hall.

“Living room,” she responds. In a moment he fills the doorway, and though she can’t quite make out his features at this angle she feels the weight of his eyes on her.

“What’re ya doin’ in here?”

“The baby wouldn’t let me sleep.” It’s only partly true. She doesn’t mention the role her fears take – the fear that she won’t be a good mother, and, worse, that she might not even get the chance to find out. Jack crosses the room and crouches down beside her armchair, resting his hand over hers.

“Yer mama needs her rest,” he addresses her stomach. The baby kicks again, hard enough to make her wince. Jack reaches up to cup her face, pale moonlight falling across his concerned eyes.

“It’s all right,” she soothes. “He just got excited to hear his papa, I guess.”

Jack grins.


	27. Baby Charlie 'verse #22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> August 2nd, 1909: the tenth anniversary of the end of the strike. Irene's birthday is August 10th, but Katherine can totally handle a little thing like hosting a party at full term. (I think she's mostly worried about Jack burning down her kitchen).
> 
> The slang 'owl-eyed', meaning 'drunk', originates from about 1900 (at least according to one source I found). Other terms that Katherine could've used include 'jingled' (c. 1908) and 'pie-eyed' (c. 1904).

The midwife’s warned Katherine about not exerting herself too much the closer she gets to giving birth, but today is an important day. She has a party to host this evening and the food’s not going to cook itself.

“Ten years,” Jack crows. “Can ya believe it, Ace?”

“It feels like just yesterday,” she says. “Can you give me a hand here?”

She can get the oven door open, just about, but bending down to put the chicken in to roast is physically impossible. Jack does it for her, fixing her with what she thinks is supposed to be a stern look.

“You oughta be restin’,” he says. “Ya know nobody’ll care if there’s food or not, ‘s long’s we got stuff ta drink.”

“Jack, my love, you know I adore our friends, but I will not have them getting – ouch – getting completely owl-eyed around our son.”

Jack ignores the slang she lets slip (which is usually a great source of amusement for him) in favor of taking her by the arm.

“Okay, Ace, I think you’s done enough. Go lie down for a coupla hours, an’ I’ll take care o’ things in here.”

“Jack, no! It’s fine, I’m fine, I can -- ”

“You can take a nap, ‘s what ya can do. It’ll make me feel better if I know you ain’t wearin’ yerself out this close ta yer time.”

“The chicken should be done in an hour and a half,” she reminds him, moving as slowly as possible to their bedroom. “Do _not_ let it burn.”

“Got it,” he says.

“And the potatoes should go in the oven in an hour. And don’t forget the -- ”

“Okay.”

“If Charlie’s hungry when he gets up from his nap -- ”

“I’ll cut up an apple for him. I _know,_ angel.”

\--

She’s still awake a couple of hours later when their friends arrive. Sleep is hard to come by at this late stage, just as it had been when she was pregnant with Charlie, what with all the associated aches and pains.

Jack pokes his head in a minute later. “D’you feel like comin’ out there with everybody, angel?”

“Help me up,” she requests. “I don’t think I can do it myself.”

He helps her stand, and she leans heavily on his arm as they go down the hall to join the party. Smalls kicks Romeo out of an overstuffed chair so Katherine can sit, then plants herself firmly on the arm to ward off anyone who might be fool enough to try to touch the belly. (Not that they are. The risk of bodily harm isn’t one they’re willing to take.)

“Ten years,” Davey says. “I think this calls for a toast.”

“To Jack,” Smalls calls out, raising her glass. “Couldn’ta done it without ‘im.”

“To Jack!”

“Aw, fellas,” he says. “That’s just – I couldn’ta done it without alla yous backin’ me up.”

He raises his glass. “Anotha’ toast, if yous don’t mind. Ta each and every one o’ you that’s here celebratin’ t’night, just like you was when we won ten years ago.”

“To us!”


	28. High school AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tidbit of a high school AU. I won't be continuing this one, because I already have too much to keep straight between the BC 'verse and the college AU.

Katherine slams her locker shut, trying not to cry. It’s just like her father to do something like this. Sure, it’s well within his authority as the principal to cancel whatever school events he sees fit to cancel, but she’s pretty sure _I don’t want you hanging around that boy_ isn’t a valid reason to threaten to pull the plug on the spring musical.

So, yeah, she’d gone to Ms. Larkin and quit like Father wanted her to. It hurts like hell, but it’s better than being the reason the show gets called off entirely. Most of the student body is already wary of her because she’s the principal’s daughter; she doesn’t want them to hate her outright.

“Hey, Pulitzer.”

Oh, shit. She digs around in her purse for an excuse to avoid talking to Jack. He doesn’t sound particularly happy, which means he’s probably already heard the news.

“What’s the deal, huh?” Oh, yeah, he’s definitely heard. “Quittin’ the show, leavin’ us high an’ dry?”

“I didn’t leave anybody high and dry, Jack,” she says. “Smalls knows the part and she’ll be good at it.”

Her voice breaks on the last words. Jack moves closer, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“This wasn’t yer idea, was it?” he asks. He’s always been too smart for his own good, she thinks. “’s yer father’s.”

“He said…he said if I didn’t quit he’d axe the show.” She doesn’t say why. She doesn’t have to.

Jack’s hand falls away from her shoulder, and when she looks up he’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The show, if you're curious, is Beauty and the Beast. Smalls being Katherine's understudy is a nod to Liana Hunt because I'm nothing if not capital-R Ridiculous.
> 
> (Also, Jack totally stormed off to Pulitzer's office to say that HE would quit the show instead because it means more to Katherine than it does to him.)


	29. Baby Charlie 'verse #23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> November, 1899.

Jack climbs the stairs to Katherine’s third-floor apartment. Nobody’s seen her in a couple of days, which usually means she’s working on an article, but when that’s the case she lets them know. This time no one’s come back to the lodging house with any such message, and they’re worried.

He nearly runs into her mother on the landing.

“Oh! Hello, Mr. Kelly,” Mrs. Pulitzer says. “I should warn you Katherine’s not up for any visitors. The doctor’s been and gone.”

A knot of tension forms in his stomach. “She’s sick?”

“The doctor calls it a migraine. She just needs rest and quiet.” She steers him back down to the ground floor and out onto the street, a gentle but irresistible force. “Tell the newsboys not to worry too much. She’ll be right as rain by tomorrow. These episodes never last too long.”

Well. If her own mother isn’t that bothered, maybe he shouldn’t be either. Still: “This happen a lot?”

“The last time was shortly before your strike, I believe. Goodbye, Mr. Kelly.” With that, she turns to go, and Jack does the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not saying Kath gets migraines just because I also get them, but...


	30. Baby Charlie 'verse #24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late 1901 or early 1902.

“Word on the street is Snyder’s outta jail.”

The tray slips out of Katherine’s suddenly nerveless fingers, spilling water and sending shards of glass skittering across the hardwood. When Specs and Mike and Ike had shown up at her front door, wide-eyed and out of breath, she’d expected news of sickness in the lodging house.

Not this. Never this. She’d been in the courtroom for his trial, not to cover it for the _Sun_ , but to testify about her role in bringing him down. She’d looked him in the eye as she spoke of personally handing over Jack’s drawings to now-President Roosevelt, and struggled not to flinch or falter at the coldness in his gaze. He’d been sentenced to four years, and it’s only been two.

The boys jump up to clear away the mess she’s made. Good thing, too; her hands are shaking, and she’s more hindrance than help.

“What do you know for sure?” she asks Specs, retreating behind journalistic detachment. “Did they let him out or did he escape?”

“All we know is somebody saw him at the corner of Broome and Lafayette yesterday. Jack’s not doin’ good.”

“Of course he’s not,” she says. With the glass swept up and tossed out, she jerks her head toward the door. “Let’s go.”

She’s not sure if Jack will even want to see her, in the state he’s surely in, but she has to try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Manhattan's streets have changed; the modern-day intersection of Broome and Lafayette is a 20 minute walk from modern Duane Street. The Lodging House no longer exists, but according to the invaluable DSLH history site might have stood approximately where the NYPD headquarters stands today.


	31. Baby Charlie 'verse #25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> November, 1899. Snyder's trial (mentioned in chapter 48/BC#24) hasn't started yet.
> 
> Also I moved Georgie, last spotted in chapter 17, over to the Baby Charlie 'verse solely because I needed a Tiny Newsie to make an appearance.

Kate Pulitzer looks around her daughter’s new apartment. No one would know a Pulitzer lives here; it’s bare of the little touches that make a place a home, and the furniture is secondhand. She hasn’t even got curtains to ward off prying eyes.

“More tea?” Katherine asks, tone deliberately light.

“Thank you, dear.”

Not for the first time, Kate regrets not trying harder. This could have all been avoided had she done more to keep the peace between her husband and daughter. She wouldn’t be in this small apartment in Manhattan, closer to the Hudson than the East River, pretending the tea her daughter is pouring isn’t bitter and over-steeped.

It’s been a week since the argument that drove Katherine away. Joseph hadn’t wanted her involving herself any further in the case against Warden Snyder, and that she’d announced her intent to testify against him in court had apparently been the final straw. Kate’s never met any of the newsboys, but they must truly be special if Katherine’s fierce loyalty to them is any indication.

Someone knocks on the door. Katherine gets up to answer, and her greeting is considerably cheerier than the one Kate had gotten.

“Buttons! Georgie! What’re you two doing here?”

Kate doesn’t hear the reply, but Katherine ushers the two of them in. The littler one is shivering, clutching at Katherine’s skirts. The older one stops in his tracks when he sees her.

“Boys, this is my mother,” Katherine says. “I’ll get a blanket and put Georgie’s clothes on the radiator to dry.”

The older boy (Buttons?) perches awkwardly on a chair and avoids Kate’s eyes as Katherine putters about looking after the little one.


	32. Modern AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Babies Charlie and Irene (well, seven-year-old Charlie and four-year-old Irene) in the modern era. I couldn't resist.

It’s Katherine’s first day off in weeks, and she’d like nothing more than to grab a few more minutes of sleep. Unfortunately, the poorly-stifled giggling of her children means mischief and shenanigans are at hand...and the shushing she hears means Jack is in on whatever’s about to happen.

She throws back the covers just as the door opens and the kids fling themselves headlong onto the bed with her.

“Mama, Mama, Mama!” Irene shrieks. “’s ya day!”

“My day?”

“Don’t tell me ya forgot Mother’s Day, Kath,” Jack says, grinning at her because he knows very well that she has. In her defense, she’s a busy woman. The two calendars she keeps – work and home – are so full of deadlines and doctor’s appointments and PTA meetings that non-essential things tend to slip under the radar. On top of that, she sees little need for this particular holiday; Jack and the kids make sure she knows how much they love her every single day.

“Daddy made you coffee,” Charlie informs her. “An’ chocolate-chip pancakes!”

“Chocolate-chip pancakes? Whose idea was that, little man?” She tickles him, making him collapse in a fit of laughter. Irene, never one to be left out, crawls into her lap for a cuddle.

“Love you, Mama,” she says. Katherine presses a kiss to her riotous curls.

“Love you too, Bug.”


	33. 1940s nightclub AU #2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote another part of that post-war nightclub AU, in which Jack is the bartender at a club run by Medda and Katherine is the New York nightlife version of Hedda Hopper.
> 
> Enjoy, and please leave a comment!

In the days and weeks after Miss Plumber’s review was printed, the Silver Lark saw a real upswing in its profits. Jack quickly found himself run ragged by the influx of new patrons, but hell if it wasn’t worth it to see the smile on Miss Medda’s face.

“If this keeps up, I might be able to hire you some help,” she said at the end of the night. “Lord knows you need it. You’re worn out.”

“I’m all right, Miss Medda,” he waved her off. “I don’t need help ta pour drinks.”

She frowned. “Honey, I saw you yawning all through the show tonight.”

Well, that was a lie. Had to be. She complained about not being able to see her audience for all the lights pointed her way on a pretty regular basis, so there was no way she could see all the way to the bar. He opened his mouth to say so, only to be interrupted.

“I told her,” Katherine said. Tonight was one of the rare nights she didn’t have to be at some other venue, reviewing somebody else’s show. His girl – though she’d half-kill him if he ever called her that out loud – looked as worried as Miss Medda. “Jack, you look beat. You don’t have to run the bar all by yourself.”

“Our luck ain’t guaranteed ta last, baby doll,” he said. “Sure, folks love the place now, but that’s just ‘cause ya told ‘em they should. Sooner or later they’ll move on an’ there’ll be nothin’ ta pay the new guy.”

Katherine pressed her lips together and looked away, and he knew he was in for it as soon as they were alone. She’d never blow a fuse in front of other people.

“Now, Jack,” Miss Medda soothed. “If that happens, we’ll manage. We always do.”

She patted his hand and left, depriving him of his only defense against an irritated Katherine. Who...didn’t look all that irritated, come to think of it. She just looked sad.

“Is that really what you think?” she asked. “That nobody in this town thinks for themselves? They just go with the crowds?”

“That’s how it is, doll. Someday there’ll be newer and shinier places ta go, an’ the Lark’s gonna empty out an’ never fill up again. They’ll forget about us, an’ they’ll forget about you, too, sometime. Ya can’t run the social scene forever.”

“We’ve got a while before that day comes, Jack. They haven’t tossed us out like yesterday’s garbage yet.”

“Eh,” he muttered. “I’m just sayin’, it’s only a matter o’ time.”

“Well, I’ve got to head home, darling, so why don’t you stop _just saying_ and give me a kiss before I go?”

He came out from behind the bar to kiss her properly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean for Jack's defeatism to infect this, but...here we are. That boy needs to talk to someone.
> 
> (Also, I moved all the College AU drabbles to their own work because I was tired of not being able to find anything, so check that out if you haven't already).


	34. High school (reunion) AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by my own imminent high school reunion. I'm not attending because it's far less stressful and expensive to not do things than to do them, but certain social media sites that shall not be named refuse to let me forget that it's happening.
> 
> This is part of the same AU as the one in Ch. 28.

Maybe it’s rude to hide in the hallway outside the gym, but Katherine couldn’t possibly care any less. She doesn’t even want to be here. It’s all Darcy and Bill’s fault that she agreed to attend her ten-year reunion, and as soon as she gets home they are _so_ off her Christmas card list. Assholes.

The sound of a shoe squeaking across the hideous tile – unchanged since well before she was a student here, let alone ten years graduated – interrupts her thoughts of revenge. An old friend leans against the wall next to her.

“Guess I’m not the only one who doesn’t wanna be here,” Smalls says. “You remember what we said before we graduated?”

“I think about it all the time,” Katherine replies. “I still have no idea where we could’ve gotten that many sandbags.”

“I told you, I knew a guy.”

“And the ferrets?”

“...Yeah, that woulda been tricky. ‘m not sure you can train ferrets.”

Katherine shakes her head, but before she can say anything more, the door to the gym bangs open.

“Oi! Wallflowers! Get in here!” Tony disappears without waiting for an answer. They exchange eye-rolls before pushing off the wall to follow him.


	35. high school AU #3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written because I might be feeling a bit nostalgic for my own high school days. (As previously noted, my ten-year is coming up, plus my cousin just graduated yesterday...I have a lot of feelings.)

**Jack:** _(08:30) come outside_

 **Katherine:** _(08:31) what part of ‘no boys allowed’ do you not understand?_

 **Jack:** _(08:31) we’re bored_

 **Katherine:** _(08:31) who is we?_

**Jack:** _(08:32) every1 but davey_

**Jack:** _(08:32) he said he wanted 2 get a jump on schoolwork, the nerd_

 **Jack:**   _(08:32) do we even have work 2 do yet_

 **Jack:** _(08:37) kath?_

 **Katherine:** _(08:38) we’ll be outside in a minute_

 **Katherine:** _(08:39) I want you to know that I was overruled 4 to 1 and will not be taking any responsibility when we’re asked why we went out and broke the law in the name of combating your boredom_

 **Jack:** _(08:40) why do u always assume the worst will happen_

“Because it frequently does,” she replies, closing the front door once JoJo steps out onto the porch. “Every time I let you convince me to go out and do things, as a matter of fact.”

This is (mostly) a lie. So long as they stay within the limits of their sleepy little town and don’t steal anything or set any fires, the cops let them be. Everyone’s used to the antics of the Newsies by now, to the point that only the stubbornest holdouts put Mr. R.P. Tyler to shame with their disapproval.

“So where’re we goin’?” Smalls asks.

“Park,” Jack says. “Miss Medda packed us some snacks so we don’t get hungry watchin’ the meteor shower.”

The Perseids are supposed to be at their peak tonight, Katherine recalls. She’d all but given up on seeing them with all the end-of-summer business going on. Most of the Newsies, herself included, are about to start their senior year of high school. Elmer, Buttons, JoJo, and the twins will be juniors; at least they’ll still have each other for another year.

It hurts to think that she’s going to lose these gloriously carefree times soon. No more midnight runs to the town’s only 24-hour convenience store for questionable pretzels. No more watching Race try and fail to dunk Spot or Jack or Albert in the park fountain. No more meteor shower viewing parties. No more Newsies.

“Kath?” Jack’s voice is gentle and his arm around her shoulders is solid. “C’mon. It’ll be over if we don’t get ta the park soon.”

“Sorry, sorry,” she says, and the group gets moving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JoJo is a girlsie in this 'verse, because I said so.
> 
> Also, I firmly believe that Good Omens references improve any work to which they're added.


	36. Baby Charlie 'verse #26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although I guess technically this is "Child Charlie" territory now.
> 
> (Also, I've scrapped the "Extended BC 'verse" project because it no longer sparks joy, though I'm not sure this sort of thing is what Marie Kondo had in mind when she came up with her method.)

**July, 1916**

It’s far from the first time she and Jack have disagreed on something. They’ve been together seventeen years, or nearly that, and they’re both stubborn as mules. Differences of opinion that are settled by suppertime and forgotten after a good night’s sleep just tend to happen.

But this isn’t just any difference of opinion, and it’s well past suppertime. The children are in bed asleep.

“No, I won’t allow it,” she says, keeping her voice down. “He’s ten years old.”

“So was Les when he started,” Jack replies. “An’ I was younger than that.”

“Les isn’t my son, and neither are you. Charlie’s not going out to sell papes, and that’s final.”

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with sellin’ papes,” he snaps. “I did it for years, an’ it ain’t hurt me.”

Katherine silently begs to differ. Even now he has nightmares about the Refuge, and the Delanceys, though they’re fewer than they once were.

“You had next to nothing,” she says. “Don’t look at me like that, you know it’s true. Charlie has more than you did at his age. He doesn’t have to worry about when his next meal might be, or whether his shoes will hold out another season, or whether he has enough pennies to stay at the lodging house - ”

“All right, I get it, I get it.” Jack sighs. “You win, Ace, even if it ain’t nice ta bring up a fella’s past in an argument.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, curling into him. He drops a kiss on her head, and all is well again.


	37. MCU crossover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've wanted to write a Newsies/Marvel crossover for a while. This is mostly just an exercise to see what that might look like.

“I wish you wouldn’t go on about the Accords,” Jack says. “Push any harder an’ they’ll figure you out, Ace.”

It’s late and the curtains are drawn. Katherine’s at the kitchen table, hunched over her notebook; and even as Jack watches, the glass of water at her elbow begins to freeze over.

“Maybe they’ll take me down,” she replies. “Maybe they won’t. But I can’t just let them get away with this. It’s not right, what they’re doing.”

“I get it,” he says. “I do. You ain’t ever been one ta stand by an’ do nothin’, an’ maybe you ain’t afraid...but I am, Ace. I am. I’m scared one day soon they’ll kick in the door an’ I’ll lose you.”

Thaw. Freeze. Thaw. Freeze. Katherine keeps writing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're unfamiliar with the MCU, the Accords are the Sokovia Accords, and they're basically one human rights violation after another (which we all know Katherine wouldn't tolerate even if she weren't a powered individual). 
> 
> If you are familiar with the MCU, Kath and Jack are both Inhumans, and I intentionally left it ambiguous as to which one of them has freezy powers.


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying my hand at Newsbians now. This will probably (read: definitely) balloon into its own 'verse because I have Thoughts and Headcanons aplenty. Also because Sarah doesn't actually appear in this drabble and she'll most certainly need to for this to qualify as proper Newsbian content.
> 
> Please enjoy, and leave a comment if you want! I love comments.

“We’ve known each other ten years, Kitty,” Jack says. “Have I ever steered ya wrong yet?”

“Yes. My father still hasn’t forgiven you for landing me in detention in sixth grade.”

He dismisses this with an airy wave. “I mean, when it matters. Have I ever steered ya wrong when it _matters?_ ”

“Well, no,” Katherine admits. He’s been her best friend since kindergarten, and from day one he’s always taken the role very seriously.

“Have I ever lied to ya?”

“No, but what if you’re wrong? What if I ask and she turns me down and then I have to sit next to her in English class like nothing’s happened?”

“Hey, hey,” Jack soothes, pulling her into a hug. “That ain’t gonna happen, Kitty. Sarah Jacobs blushes every time she sees ya, trust me.”

“I do,” she says, holding onto him for a moment before pushing away. “I’m thirsty.”

“Yeah, I know.” He actually waggles his eyebrows at her.

“Not like that! Go get me a glass of water, you goof.”

\--

Mrs. P.’s in the kitchen when he enters, prepping the ingredients for what looks like lasagna. She looks up from slicing a zucchini and smiles at him.

“Hello, Jack, dear. Are you staying for dinner?”

“I gotta ask Medda first,” he says, knowing she’ll say yes. She’s always approved of his friendship with Kitty, right from day one, and he eats at the Pulitzers’ table just about every week.

“Tell her hello from me,” Mrs. P. replies, going back to the veggies. He fetches a glass and fills it from the fancy built-in dispenser in the door of the fridge before retreating back upstairs. Kitty’s at her desk when he reenters her room, intent on her math homework. He groans and grumbles for a bit before retrieving his from the depths of his backpack. If he’s gotta do _work_ , he oughta do it while he can ask her for help.

“Algebra sucks,” he mutters.

“You say that every day,” she returns.

“Only ‘cause it’s true!”


	39. Baby Charlie 'verse #27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A while back I wrote a BC verse drabble in which Katherine writes a letter to Jack a few years after his death, and it's not the first time she's written to someone she's lost. This installment concerns the first such letter.

**October 1918**

 

Jack usually avoids poking ‘round in Katherine’s things, but he thinks he’ll go crazy if he spends another minute sitting around doing nothing. They’ve been stuck here at Chatwold much longer than the two weeks they’d intended; the reports out of New York aren’t good. David’s most recent letter to them says Elmer’s caught the sickness that’s spreading like wildfire through the boroughs. Buttons is already gone.

Katherine’s desk is covered in letters – from David, from Sarah, from Georgie. (She’s taken to reading Georgie’s over and over, as if the little he can say about the trenches in Europe might change from one reread to the next.)

It’s the letters penned in her hand, as familiar to Jack now as his own handwriting, that catch his eye.

_Buttons,_

_~~We’ve just heard~~ _

_~~David wrote to us to say~~ _

_It’s been a day since the letter came from David, telling us you were gone. As long as I live, I don’t think I’ll ever understand. Why you? Why so many people our age? ~~Hasn’t the war taken enough young people~~_

_~~It’s cruel and unfair, is what it is~~ _

_Katherine_

The paper is stained with tears, and he wonders when she wrote it. Why he didn’t hear her crying. He puts the letter back where it was, next to a sheet that – so far – only has Elmer’s name at the top. Like she’s waiting for the inevitable.

The door to the bedroom opens and she steps in, stopping short as she sees what he’s looking at.

“I was just - ” he starts. She shakes her head once as if to clear it.

“It’s okay,” she says. “I thought if I just...wrote to him, that it might help me stop crying. The children don’t need to see me that way.”

“You ain’t gotta be tough all the time, Ace,” he says. “It’s okay to fall sometimes.”

Nineteen years he’s been telling her that, and she still doesn’t believe him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Spanish flu had a "W-shaped" mortality rate, in which the mortality rate among young adults was much higher than expected. The "Lost Generation" wasn't lost solely because of the Great War.


	40. 1940s nightclub AU #3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I guess I just can't leave this 1940s AU alone??? Have some Katherine backstory.
> 
> Enjoy (and please comment)!

Katherine took a sip of her Coca-Cola and briefly – very, very briefly – wished it were something just a trifle stronger. She was meant to be dining with her parents this evening, but had invented a cold and come to the Silver Lark instead. It seemed easier than sitting through another round of her father trying to order her around as though she still lived under his roof while Mother fretted about what the war had done to her.

The Women’s Auxiliary had needed recruits, and she’d put her plans on hold just like everyone else had done. Then they’d become the Women’s Army Corps, and she’d stayed on until the war was over. Coming home to be told that no one wanted to read serious news after years of nothing but, and wouldn’t she prefer something easy to do, had left her angry. All through her training, all through her service, the dream of a real career in journalism kept her moving forward.

She knew that most people (okay, mostly Jack and Race) were convinced that she’d cultivated her reputation solely to thumb her nose at the men who’d relegated her permanently to the social beat, but that wasn’t true. She wanted to be heard, and the city loved her occasional sly insinuations that certain high-society types might just be found in very unlikely venues at very unlikely times, so she stuck with it.

If those same venues came to anticipate and dread her reviews in equal measure, well. She had power now, even if it was far from what she’d envisioned before the war.

The lights came up, and she applauded with the rest of the audience as Medda took her final bow of the night and descended from the stage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Women's Auxiliary Army Corps was established on May 15, 1942, and converted to active duty status in the US Army on July 1, 1943. WACs served as secretaries; file clerks; drivers and mechanics; medical, dental, and x-ray technicians; teletypewriter, telegraph, radio, and switchboard operators; and cartographers, among many, many other essential non-combat roles. (Guess which job Katherine held and you'll get a ficlet of your very own as a prize!)


	41. gift drabble (modern au)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For tuppenny, who correctly guessed that 40s!Kath was a teletype operator during the war and requested Jatherine fluff.
> 
> I went with modern AU first-date cuteness. Enjoy!

“I don’t usually do this,” Katherine says to the napkin she’s fiddling with.

“What, eat at places that ain’t got a house red?” Jack chuckles at his own wit. It stings a little; he’s closer to the truth than he knows.

“Go out on dates,” she replies. “Not with people my father hasn’t picked for me.”

Jack frowns. “What kinda nineteenth-century bullshit -- ”

“He calls it networking,” she says. “I call it being told that he’s got a meeting scheduled with some other bigshot, and that Mr. Bigshot has a son about my age, and that there’s a reservation for the two of us somewhere uptown in four hours so I should start getting ready.”

“Nineteenth-century bullshit,” Jack repeats.

“It is,” she agrees, swiping a fry from his plate.

“Hey, hey! If ya wanted fries, ya shoulda got your own.”

“And if you wanted to keep all of your fries, you should’ve asked a different girl to dinner.”

“Not a chance, Kitty. Not a chance.”


End file.
